October Sands
by SunRei
Summary: Happy Birthday Marcy! October Sands is an urban classic mythic fairy tale that borrows from all kinds of previously told once upon a times and is set in an alternate SV universe.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, I am currently knee deep in another fic right now, but Marcy had to go and be born in the middle of fic season, so I'm starting another one. The story you are about to embark upon is a birthday fic, and for those that know how we do - you know that there is a certain amount of guaranteed madness that comes with my birthday fics... and our birthdays last a week long (because that gives me time to complete the gifts - Shhh!). For those that don't know - well, now you know.

This story is dedicated to my pal Marcy (VisionGirl) to commemorate another year of life. Thank you for being a friend... travel 'round the world and back again. Your heart is true. You're a pal and a confidante. And if you threw a party... oh, sorry. Got a little carried away there. What I meant to say was, Happy Birthday! Hope that you enjoy this little ditty.

Note: This fic borrows from all sorts of places. You've been warned. And FYI- alternate universe means that If I don't explicitly say something SV-verse related happened, then it didn't happen.

Oh, and it has a built in soundtrack. Don't ask... just go with it.  
-s

* * *

**October Sands**  
_An urban classic alternative fairy tale told in three parts_  
Happy Birthday to Marcy

**Poster:**** http: / img502.imageshack.us/img502/692/octsandsposteroc2.jpg**

* * *

This story begins, as most stories do, in a generic setting, amidst generic characters, and at a generic time. Whether or not those things become significant is what our tale hinges upon...

* * *

PT.1

* * *

"Don't jump."

At the sound of the voice, the dark-haired teenager turned around, stepping back from the ledge as he did so. "I… I wasn't…"

The girl smirked, holding back a laugh, and approached him slowly. She had long hair – dark brown, and gently curled at the ends. "Relax. Anyone who takes that much consideration to even peek over the edge is not likely to jump," she teased. She brazenly walked past him, no hesitation apparent, and leaned with crossed arms against the low concrete wall that bordered the rooftop.

"It's a great view," she observed, sighing and gazing at the city which spread out below and beyond.

The boy wiped his hands on his jeans and stepped in her direction. "It's nice," he said easily, purposely not to looking down.

She laughed at his discomfort and grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way to the wall and holding him in place. "It's okay, I've got you."

He swallowed, embarrassed by his fear and the fact that a total stranger had picked up on it. "Yeah, but who's got you?" His attempt at humor sounded weak and oppressed.

She didn't answer his question; simply tilted her head and gazed up at him with a confident and thoughtful smile.

Feeling the unexpected urge to return the smile, and slip into it, he cleared his throat. He was suddenly aware that the height was no longer the scariest thing in his atmosphere. "You didn't really think I was going to jump, did you?"

"No," she answered. "But you've been inching your way to the edge for the last 20 minutes. It looked like you could use a push."

He swallowed again and relaxed. The feel of cool concrete secure beneath his hands. "It really is a great view."

She nodded. "It's high," she observed, acknowledging his initial apprehension, "but not the highest." She pointed to the neighboring skyscraper that arched above them into the night. "We're at this comfortable place where we get to choose to go back down among the normal, or go up to the next level."

He blinked, unsure if he understood the depth of her statement at the level of philosophy it sounded like it was carrying. He looked down at where her arm was still resting against his, as if she realized that it helped. "This is kind of an odd conversation to have with someone you don't know."

She shrugged. "It's 10:30 on a Thursday night, and even though you have a fear of heights, you're on the roof of the Daily Planet building, contemplating how you're going to cope with whatever experience led you out here. I think I know you well enough."

He frowned at her and she laughed again. "I'm Lois."

At her expectant look, he stammered a reply. "Clark."

"Now we're not strangers."

He couldn't help but chuckle. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met. Mysterious, yet straightforward; complex, yet simple; open, yet somehow jaded. "Why are you out here late on a Thursday night?"

She twisted her neck, moving her hair from her shoulders, and inhaled deeply, taking a moment to absorb the night. "Communing… preparing," she answered. "One day I'm going to work here."

His eyebrows lifted. "Here, as in the Planet? You want to be a reporter?"

"I want to fight for truth… for justice. This has always been the symbol of it for me." She pointed across the city. "That's Met-U over there. They have one of the best journalism programs in the country. I'm going to graduate from there with honors, have an internship with the Planet by my junior year, and start taking over the front page the first day I'm employed full-time."

"Damn," he muttered, both awed and shocked… maybe even a little intimidated. She flushed and he found that he liked it. "I mean, wow. I've never met someone our age who knew exactly what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. I don't even know what I'm going to do tomorrow."

She turned around, leaning backwards against the ledge and crossed her arms on her chest. "Do you want me to tell you?"

"Tell me… what I'm doing tomorrow?" he asked, confused.

"Tomorrow's easy," she said. "I'll tell you what you're going to do in the future." Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "You are going to travel to many places and see lots of things that will help you decide what type of force you will be in the world."

He laughed at her generic premonition. "And how do you know this?"

"I have a crystal ball," she replied, indicating with her head that he should turn around as well.

He turned around and found himself looking up at the massive iconic Daily Planet globe, slowly turning on its illuminated pedestal; a beacon of amber-hued metal against the night sky.

**Musical Interlude 1.1: http: / youtube com /watch?vZeJ4qXwPfPY  
**

* * *

Lois pushed herself back so that the brunt of her weight was on her legs and calves instead of her knees, and lifted a tremulous hand to her damp brow. Sensing a presence behind her, she turned to see the furious expression on her father's face.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked wearily.

"Long enough to know what this is about," Sam Lane growled. "How long?"

Lois let out a long breath, flicking the briefest of glances down at her midsection.

"How long, Lois?" His voice had dropped an octave and left no option but response.

She swallowed. "12 weeks."

If he had looked furious before, the additional information made him look ready to explode. He didn't immediately respond, instead taking the time to do some mental calculations. The knuckles in his right hand were white from the pressure he was exerting while holding onto the knob of the bathroom door he'd entered a few minutes earlier.

Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, not feeling nearly as calm as he sounded – but then, that was part of his training. "I'm surprised… disappointed," he said. She had done a hell of a job hiding symptoms from him that he had seen his wife go through twice before. "Luckily, there's still time enough for us to deal with it."

The succinctness of his words gave Lois a surge of energy she had been lacking. She rose to her feet and lifted her chin defiantly. "No, Daddy."

They locked gazes for a moment, two tigers on opposite sides of their prey – and then he released the door and walked away. Lois immediately followed, catching him before he had fully made it out of her bedroom.

"No," she repeated, forcefully, unable to help the way her eyes started to blur from impending tears.

Sam turned to face her, his posture and demeanor unrelenting. "No? You are my child. My child. A seventeen-year-old girl who hasn't yet gotten a high school diploma has no business trying to have a child of her own. Have you thought about this? Have you thought about what it means for you? For your life?"

Lois stepped back, a bit shaken. She hadn't really thought about it, in truth. She had been trying not to think about it. She was just trying to feel. It was what she had done that night.

"I didn't think so," Sam answered his own question, taking her silence to be confusion. Then, tenderly almost pleadingly, he continued, "Let me do the thinking on this one, Lo. You haven't been doing such a good job of it lately."

He left the room, and this time Lois didn't run after him. Instead, she lay down on her bed and curled into a ball.

She decided that she was too mentally tired, too sick, and too physically drained at that moment to fight with her father. She didn't have an argument prepared that would explain the feeling she had been caught up that night. She didn't have the words to describe the pull she felt to a person she only knew by first name.

That fateful day, ten weeks ago, she had 'escaped' from the Washington D.C. military base her father was stationed at and had taken a train to Metropolis. Her intention had been to just enjoy the city, to walk the grounds of Metropolis University, and to saturate herself in the dreams of her future she'd had since she'd been young girl. Meeting a handsome man named Clark who had charmed her with his adorable vulnerabilities and quiet strength had been happenstance.

Growing up under the overprotective hand of a three-star general had eliminated any chances of believing fairy tales to be true, but that night had offered proof that people could fall in love at first sight – even if it wasn't meant to last. The lack of sustainability didn't mean that it didn't happen. And as much as that night seemed like a dream, it had definitely happened. She had growing proof of that.

The morning she had woken up in the arms of the boy she'd given her heart to had been the safest she'd ever felt. For the first time, she hadn't been the only child of a military man who'd lost his wife and second daughter in childbirth. She hadn't felt the pressure of being her father's end-all – living a life to meet the invisible standards of three people. Clark hadn't known all of that, and it hadn't mattered.

What she had told Clark – her aspirations – had been a surprise. It was something she didn't tell many people, and perhaps it was the fact that they didn't know the other menial stuff about one other that made it all okay.

Except it hadn't been all okay just a few hours into the next morning when she'd noticed a military police officer lock eyes with her and reach for his walkie-talkie. Contrary to public perception, the military was a small world, and Lois had run away enough times to know that her picture had already been sent to all the necessary channels. She hadn't explained to Clark why they were running through the crowded streets of Metropolis, and when they had gotten separated during the train crossing mid-ride, she had yelled for him to meet her at the Crystal Ball.

Unfortunately, the small world that the military was had her father magically waiting for her when the train pulled to a stop at the next station. There was no crystal ball for her that night - her magic pumpkin had turned into a plane ride to Texas, where her father's new station meant another new school and another new life for her.

* * *

For Clark Kent, the rooftop of the Daily Planet had become a fortress of solitude of sorts. No longer did the vast height bother him, and he spent many nights leaning against the ledge replaying the events of the night so long ago that ended far too soon.

For the first few days following their separation, he had gone to the roof every day hoping that Lois would be there, hoping that he hadn't imagined the connection, and wishing that he'd asked her for her last name.

Six months had passed, and in all that time, she had never been there. His visits were less and less, diminishing at the same rate as his optimism. He had thought he'd fallen in love that night, but as time steadily passed by, he began to realize that there were other explanations for what had happened.

He had buried his father the day before he met Lois. A sudden heart attack had stripped away his innocence, his hope, and had changed his life forever. As much as his mother would have told him differently, Clark couldn't help but feel responsible for his father's condition – so he didn't tell his mother about his guilt. He kept those feelings inside, trying to be strong for his mother, trying to be the man his father would have expected him to become in that dark moment. The night after the funeral, though, he had reached his limit. His mother was lost in her own mechanism for coping and he had found that he needed air.

Feeling smothered by sorrow and guilt, he'd gone outside of the yellow farmhouse that he'd grown up, entered the fields that his father had loved and toiled over, and started to run. Inexplicably, he'd found himself airborne. And then, even more inexplicably, he'd found himself on the roof of the Daily Planet… being pushed to grow up.

The fact that he'd been vulnerable emotionally gave reason for his sudden acceptance to Lois's natural charisma. It explained why he, a person who had grown up hiding his true self from everyone around him, had peeled back some of those layers and let her touch his heart so effectively. It also explained why he had to let her, and all she represented, go.

The muscles in Clark's jaw tensed as he gazed out over the city that would forever remind him of a faded dream. Time had started to heal the wound that had consumed his family, and his high school graduation had been a welcome opportunity for celebration. Now it was time to move on to the next level. Wherever, and whatever, that was.

Stepping back from the ledge and looking around to make sure there were no curious eyes about, Clark made a fist and launched straight up into the air so quickly that had anyone seen it, they would have just thought he'd disappeared.

* * *

"Don't you dare walk away from me!"

Lois spun away from her father, trying to dislodge his hand from her arm. She knew he wouldn't hold her with enough force to harm her even though their relationship had become unbelievingly strained.

There had been numerous battles and numerous casualties, but Lois felt that she had won the war – after all, she was seven months pregnant.

"No," she said, matching his level of determination and fury. "I have to do this."

Sam didn't release his hold even as people walking past the restaurant they were standing in front of began to shoot them concerned looks. "I'm tired of this, Lois. When are you going to come to terms with the fact that he's not there. He's never been there, and he's not ever going to be there."

"You don't know that," she countered. "I've only made it back here twice before – every other time you've stopped me."

Sam's brow furrowed. "I would have stopped you this time as well. Damnit Lois! As much as you claim to want this child, you're not acting responsible enough to have it. How did you even talk your way on an airplane anyway?"

The question was rhetorical at best – he knew that he wasn't going to get an answer, and in truth, he didn't expect one. She didn't look seven months pregnant – something the doctors attributed to her youth and the fact that it was her first pregnancy – and airline personnel wouldn't have suspected that she was in her final trimester.

It had taken him a day to make the arrangements with his superiors so that he could fly out to find her. Luckily, he'd known exactly where to go. He didn't understand the sentiment behind his daughter's connection to the Metropolis landmark, but he'd found her there all the same.

"You were up on that building all day yesterday," he told her. "There's no need to go there again. You're coming home with me."

"Home?" she asked, momentarily stilling in her struggles to pull away. "To Korea? I'm not going back. I'm tired of this nomadic life, Daddy, and I don't want my son to have to live it."

"And you think that some no-name teenager is going to magically appear on the roof of some building and suddenly want to create a home with you? How will you live? How will you support yourself? Your child?"

She flinched at the reality the questions were bringing home for her. "I don't know," she said softly. And taking advantage of the fact that her father's attention was focused on his anger and not on his grip, she wrenched away. "But I have to try!"

She dashed away from his reach, moving quicker than she'd even thought she was able, and stumbled as she tripped off of the curb… and into the street.

**Musical Interlude 1.2: http: / youtube com /watch?vc5ykDmAHQLM  
**

* * *

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

PT2.

* * *

The little boy watched as the string of adults got into their cars and drove away. From his perch in the large oak tree, he could see the cars travel down the long driveway of the Boy's Home and imagined that they were like ants, carrying their prizes back to the ant headquarters. His analogy made him smile but he knew those cars weren't ants, and they weren't carrying any prizes. When people came to take little boys home with them, they didn't come en masse. It was always one car, one family, and one little boy.

"Hey Freak! You can stop hiding. The Parent Party is over."

Lucas looked down and saw Billy and his two cronies, Porter and Jake, standing at the base of his tree.

"None of 'em wanted you anyway," Billy continued spitefully.

Lucas knew that any response he would have given would be grounds for more attacks from Billy, so he just remained quiet, returning his focus to the disappearing cars. The Parent Parties were what the kids called the Open House events that the Harris House for Boys ran every two months. The counselors would line up the pictures of all the boys on the bulletin board and prospective parents would come and meet prospective candidates for adoption.

For a lot of the boys, the events were stressful. Getting their hopes up as kindly-looking adults came and ate lunch with them was the cause for many stomachaches and restless nights in the days leading up to the party. The stomachaches only got worse in the days following as each boy who'd thought he'd made a connection waited for the follow-up call to come in.

Lucas was different though. He didn't wait at the doors with baited breath like the little kids did, and he didn't sit back and cautiously observe, only to eventually give in, like the big boys did. He just sat in his tree and waited for it all to end. Once upon a time, he'd been happy to meet the parents, but that was before he started breaking things on accident. Later, he'd learned to use the accidents to his advantage, so the people would leave him alone.

Unlike the other boys – even Billy, who would never admit it – Lucas didn't want to leave the House. The other boys were looking for somewhere to belong – someone to belong too, but Lucas knew he was special. He knew that he belonged to somewhere and to someone – he just had to stay put until they came back for him. It had to have been a terrible mistake that he'd gotten separated from his parents in the first place. He was special.

Sometimes he heard things that he shouldn't have been able to – like the pipes groaning at night and his roommates breathing – but he had learned to concentrate on one sound until the rest faded. And there was one time when he'd been running and had knocked himself out against a wall that he hadn't seen. All of that on top of how he sometimes didn't know his own strength…

Those things were scary, and he knew that ordinary people wouldn't understand. He needed his parents, and he would wait for them to come and get him because they were just as special as he was.

"Do you hear me, Freak?" Billy called.

The first rock hit the trunk of the tree behind him and caused him to loosen his grip on the branches in surprise. The second rock hit him on the side of the head. The pain from that was not nearly as shocking or as jarring as the pain he felt in his right leg when he hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

* * *

Lois walked down 5th street without bothering to look up at the building on the corner of Concord Lane. At one point in her life, that building and the iconic symbol that sat upon it had been a beacon for her – a lighthouse in the choppy sea that was her life. Now it was just a reminder of loss and pain. She hurried to cross the street and put the building and all of its false hopes behind her.

Even as she increased her distance from the Daily Planet building, she wondered why she did this to herself. There were other ways she could get home from work, and still she always walked down 5th street. She left the building that housed the Scoop! offices – the popular tabloid magazine she worked for – and purposely walked past the one place she had always wanted to work. Every day.

She reminded herself that she did it so that she would never forget. She did it so the pain wouldn't go away.

It was a pain she refused to let go of, even though it had dulled somewhat over the course of ten years… as pain tended to do. The first year had been the worse.

She had woken up in a hospital, confused, scared, and feeling incomplete. Her father had held her hand as he recounted the car accident… and everything had come rushing back to her like a flood, leaving her gasping for air as if she were really drowning. She had asked for her baby then, but her father had only shaken his head sadly and told her that he was gone.

At that moment she'd felt as if her mind had gone too.  
It hadn't escaped her that the outcome was one that her father was okay with, and she couldn't look at him after that. Withdrawn and numb, she had run away from her father for the last and final time when the hospital had released her. She had gathered her possessions together and moved to a medium-sized town named Grandview to live with her mother's brother.

When she arrived at the apartment she shared with the cousin that had become the sister she'd never had, the petite blonde was waiting for her at the door.

"How was your day?" Chloe Sullivan asked carefully. Usually they arrived together, leaving their joint place of employment together. It had been Chloe who had coaxed Lois back into the news business – even if what they did wasn't quite recognized as news. That day had been Chloe's day off though, so she was already home waiting for her cousin's return.

"Perry was on a rampage. I keep telling him that we're Scoop, not the Daily Planet," Lois complained as she stepped through the front door. She stopped short when the look on Chloe's face registered. "What's wrong?"

Another figure entering the hallway from the direction of their living room caught her attention. "Uncle Gabe? I didn't know you were in town." She looked quizzically from her uncle to her cousin, feeling a sense of dread settle in the air. "Chlo?"

"Lois… why don't you come and sit down," Gabriel Sullivan suggested gently.

It was the gentleness that made Lois's heckles finally come all the way to attention. People had been really gentle with her that first year. She knew what it meant. "I don't want to sit down," she countered. "Tell me now."

Running a hand through his thinning hair, Gabriel sighed heavily. "It's your father. He's dying, and he wants to see you."

* * *

Lucas hobbled into the office and slung himself into the big chair in front of the desk, shifting so that his casted leg could lie comfortably.

"You must be Lucas," the man seated at the desk said in greeting.

"Yes Sir." Lucas said, nodding. The man had caramel colored skin and looked to have a pleasant demeanor. "You must have a really great job," he commented.

The man tilted his head to the side. "What makes you say that?"

"Because everyone wants to do it," Lucas responded. The man didn't seem to understand what he meant, so he explained, "You're the 14th social worker who's come up to see us from the city. I figure that we must be popular."

The man studied Lucas for a few minutes trying to judge if this boy really believed what he was saying or if he was being sarcastic. He finally decided that if Lucas was being facetious, he was really good at it. "Maybe you guys are that popular, but hopefully I'll be able to stick around for awhile." He rose a little from his seat and reached across the table with an outstretched hand. "I'm Harold Tillman."

"Hello, Sir." Lucas returned the handshake. "You already know that I'm Lucas."

Harold lowered back into his chair. "Do you have a last name, Lucas?"

The boy frowned for a moment before responding. "It's…Harris."

Harold's eyes narrowed slightly. "Isn't that the name of the center…?"

"Yes Sir," Lucas answered with a shrug. "They always call us the Harris boys."

"How long have you been here?"

"Ten years, three months, and eight days," Lucas quipped. At the older man's surprised look he smiled. "I've been counting."

Harold chuckled. "How would you even know when to begin counting?" he asked, a little charmed by the child's naivety.

Lucas began to doubt the man's smile a little, knowing that his answers to these types of questions were often what led to the other boys picking on him. "I saw my folder once. It had the date I came here to stay," he said quietly.

Harold looked down at the file on the desk in front of him and flipped back a couple of pages. Amazingly enough, the boy was right – about both the date being listed and the amount of time that had passed. He turned back to the page he'd been look at before. "It says here that you don't want to be adopted. Why is that? Don't you want to leave?"

Lucas looked down and began picking at his cast. This was certainly one of those questions that led him into trouble. In fact, it was the biggest question of them all.

"Lucas?"

"My parents are coming back for me," the small boy muttered. When Mr. Tillman didn't immediately respond, he ventured a chance to look up and see his expression.

"And you think that if you leave the only place you've ever been, then they won't be able to find you."

The way Mr. Tillman said it made it sound like a statement and not a question. Lucas felt himself relax at the idea that he'd met an adult who would finally believe him.

"Let's talk about your leg, Lucas. How did that happen?"

Lucas looked down again. "I fell out of the big tree last week."

"And you had a slight concussion?"

Lucas nodded. "I hit my head on something… when I fell."

Harold sighed. "If someone is bothering you here, there are things we can do to fix that. You don't have to stay in an environment where you aren't safe."

Lucas looked up with a start. The man was talking about making him leave. He hadn't believed him about his parents after all. "I told you. I fell."

They locked gazes for a silent moment before the social worker sighed once again. "Okay, Lucas." Harold reached down and pulled a business card from the briefcase that was on the floor next to his chair.

"I happen to think that I have a pretty great job," he told the boy. "I get to help children find their homes." He picked up a pen and scribbled something on the back of the card. "This is not something I ever do, but I'm going to give you my personal cell phone number. If you need anything – if you decide you need to tell me anything – you give me a call. Okay?"

Lucas took the card from the man and nodded. "Yes Sir."

* * *

Later that night, long after lights out had been called, Lucas started to feel that restless feeling that meant something strange was going to happen. Usually he got that feeling right before he started to hear things, so he carefully and quietly got out of his bed on the lower bunk. When his hearing started to go berserk it usually helped to go outside. Outside he could concentrate on small sounds – the wind in the grass, the leaves rustling in the trees – and wait it out.

Standing beside his bed, he eyed his crutches for a moment before deciding to go without them. It was a little awkward to walk while swinging his right leg stiffly so it could remain straight, but he found that it didn't hurt like the doctors had warned him it would. By the time he got outside, he felt good enough to do his awkward shuffle a little faster. Pretty soon after that, he gave into the urge to go a little faster and was utterly shocked when the cast broke apart at his attempt to bend his knees.

Shocked as he was, he didn't stop running; instead he found that he ran faster – so fast that the stuff he was passing blended into each other until he couldn't even tell what they were. When he finally came to a stop, he was in the middle of a large city. Cars were zooming up and down the streets in a blazing pattern of white and red lights, and he realized that he had no idea how to get back to the House.

He was wearing only the gray sweatshirt and pants he'd started sleeping in and one shoe. The right leg of his sweat pants had been cut to allow room for his cast, and now without the bulky object surrounding his leg, the sweats looked tattered and out of place… exactly the way Lucas was feeling at that moment. He looked right and looked left, but nothing made any sense to him in any direction… then in his panicked state, the restless feeling returned with a vengeance and suddenly every sound in the city got louder.

With hands pressed against his ears, Lucas spun in a circle and caught sight of a large park on the other side of the block. It wasn't the same as the open fields that surrounded the Harris House, but he decided that it couldn't hurt. He just needed to find some grass… then he would be able to make all the scary sounds go away.

The park, he realized once he was inside, was not only not the same as the fields at the House, it was nothing like the fields at the House. First of all, the park was a huge parcel of grassy alcoves lined with trees that separated it from the busy streets. Afraid of the unfamiliar surroundings, Lucas found a small cave-like structure and curled into a ball right inside the entrance. Eventually the sounds faded and he fell asleep.

* * *

"This is my house! Get out of my house!"

The angry yelling startled Lucas and he scrambled on his hands and knees toward the back of the cave and away from the monster that was undoubtedly going to eat him.

"This is my house!" the monster growled again.

Lucas screamed when the mass of rags shuffled came toward him menacingly. The screaming seemed to be the magic that broke the spell because the monster stopped moving and suddenly became a man – a really dirty and smelly man, but a man nonetheless.

"Is a kid?" the ragman asked, seeming to talk to himself – or someone who wasn't there. Then he answered himself. "Is a little kid."

Lucas swallowed and willed his heart to stop pounding so hard. Using the dim morning light that was streaming into the cave, he began crawling toward the mouth of the cave, hesitating a bit when he realized he would have to pass the ragman closely to get by.

"Why's a kid only got one shoe?" the ragman asked.

Lucas waited expectantly for the ragman's alter-ego to respond and yelped when the man suddenly crouched in front of him. "Why's a kid only got one shoe?" he asked again.

"I… lost it," he stammered in reply.

"He lost it," the ragman repeated. "It's not good to have only one shoe."

When the man reached out for his foot, Lucas flinched and tried to make a break for it, but before he could move, the man had his leg in a tight grip and was peering at his foot. With a grunt, the man shuffled to the back of the cave and dug through a pile of bags he had in the corner.

Lucas began steadily sliding toward the exit of the cave now that the ragman's attention was off of him. He turned at the brink of making his escape only to feel something bulky hit the back of his leg. It turned out to be a pair of beat-up black Converse shoes that were tied together by the strings.

"There. Two shoes now."

Lucas looked at the shoes and then back up at the ragman. "Th…thank you, Sir."

The man nodded. "Good. It's a gift. Now you give me something."

Lucas's eyes widened. "I don't have anything."

The ragman frowned and dropped into a crouching position again. "You have one shoe," he pointed out.

Lucas pulled off his one shoe and held it out to the man before slipping the Converse on. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that they fit perfectly.

Once the ragman had seen that both shoes were on his feet and tied snugly, he started yelling again. "This is my house! Get out of my house!"

Once again frightened out of his mind, Lucas scrambled for the exit of the cave and sprinted into the park.

* * *

Feeling lost, confused, hungry, and dirty, Lucas made his way down the sidewalks of the big city, having nowhere special to go and crossing streets at the crosswalks when the crowd pressed forward. Whatever novelty he'd once assigned to stories he'd heard about the city disappeared as he experienced more and more of what the place had to offer.

After walking aimlessly for a while, he found himself following the smell of grilled meat to a street vendor's cart. Standing to the side, he watched as a line of people exchanged money for polish sausages in a bun. Holding a hand to his stomach, he approached the vendor when all of the people had gotten their food and walked away.

"Excuse me, Sir, how much does your food cost?"

The vendor looked around blankly before realizing that the owner of the voice was shorter than the ordering ledge of his cart. Stepping from behind the cart, the vendor took in the appearance of the young boy.

"Two dollars for a dog and bun," he replied. He looked the boy up and down – disheveled hair, torn grey sweats, and scuffed black Converse shoes. His politeness was out of place with both his surroundings and his dress. "I've got a special going for people under four and a half feet. A dollar'll get you both."

Lucas grinned up at him. "They smell real good." Then he started to walk away.

"You don't want one?" the confused cart vendor called out.

"Oh, yes Sir, I do," Lucas replied, turning to address the vendor. "I just have to go get a dollar."

Lucas returned to a fountain he'd seen during his trails, hopped up on the ledge, took off his shoes and rolled his pant legs up. "I'm sorry about this," he said, addressing the naked cherub that was guarding the waters and the coins within. "I'll pay you back I swear."

When he returned to the hot dog vendor with a handful of wet coins and his pant legs still rolled up, the man just shook his head and handed him the foil-wrapped food. "Where are your parents, kid?"

"I'm on my way to find them," Lucas pertly answered while helping himself to the toppings laid out on the side of the hot dog cart.

"Well, you may want to get a hold of them real quick," the vendor suggested. "The truancy officers have stepped up their rounds lately. If you're not in school when you're supposed to be, it could spell trouble."

"Truancy officers?" Lucas questioned around a large bite.

"Yeah," the vendor replied, nodding in the direction of a uniformed police officer who was approaching some skateboarding teenagers. "Best bet is to stay out of their sights until you get back to your parents."

The vendor didn't hear a response so he leaned over his cart to look at the kid… but he was no longer standing there. With a confused expression, the man turned his head to the right and saw the boy sprinting down the street. "Don't run, kid," he muttered to himself. "You'll only draw their attention."

A shout coming from the other direction caused him to turn his head to the left, and he saw as the skateboarders hopped on their boards and fled from the chasing officer.

* * *

Lucas accidentally dropped the last bite of his hotdog as he ran past a large woman walking down the street.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Sorry, Ma'am." Halting in his sprint, Lucas bent down with the intention of picking up his trash. As he did, though, he was passed by four boys on skateboards and saw that the police officer wasn't far behind.

Jumping up, Lucas ran after the skateboarders and followed when they jumped off of their boards and ran up steps to the El-train entrance. At the top of the stairs, the bigger boys hopped the turnstiles and ran to the platform. Lucas hesitated at the turnstile, judging from the reaction of the screaming ticket attendant that the other boys had been wrong in their actions. The appearance of the police officer having reached the top of the stairs spurred him into action, and he hurriedly scrambled over the turnstile as he had seen the other boys do.

Lucas made it the platform just as the doors of the nearest train were beginning to close, and he squeezed inside. The train started to move and Lucas released a breath, looking around to see where the other boys had gone. He caught sight of them as they disappeared through the rear door of the train, laughing and slapping each other's hands in congratulations for their escape.

It took Lucas a few minutes to reach the back door as he had to move around the other patrons in the El-train car. When he got there and slid the door open, the sight of the tracks speeding underneath the train caused him to retreat in fear. He securely closed the door and grabbed onto one of the metal poles, dejectedly realizing that he was really on his own.

The boy rode the train all day, eventually moving to sit down in one of the seats as people came and went throughout the numerous stops. He sat in a window seat and watched the city change beneath him, ignoring the pinch of hunger in his stomach as the morning shifted to day, and then again to night. Scared and feeling even more lost than ever, Lucas had decided to get on a train going the opposite direction at some point, hoping that at least he would make it back to the part of the city he had first arrived in.

After he switched trains, the only other person in the car was a man wearing a cowboy hat. The man's head was tilted down, and it appeared to Lucas that he was sleeping. Settling next to a window, Lucas gazed out at the scenery hoping that something would start looking familiar.

An hour later, the sound of people entering the car from the connecting door drew his attention and he turned to see three rough looking teenage boys entering the car. Lucas glanced toward the man in the cowboy hat, but he was still sleeping. His eyes flicked back to the big boys as they came to sit in the seats right surrounding his.

"Hey Buddy," the nearest one said. "Where are you going?"

Lucas studied the big boy's face. Something about the way the look in his eyes meshed with the smirk on his face reminded him of Billy. "…Home," he finally answered softly.

"Home, eh?" the boy seated behind Lucas asked. He was wearing a leather jacket and something that looked liked a spiked dog collar around his neck. "You've been riding this train for a while by yourself. I'm guessing you ditched school today, right?"

A strange feeling in Lucas's stomach made him feel that it was best not to answer.

"Hey, Dodge," Big Billy said, addressing the boy sitting across the aisle – the one who hadn't said anything yet. "What do you think? Will Cagne like him?"

The big boy named Dodge gave Lucas a considering look. Finally he smiled. "Yeah, he'll like him. A lot of people will like him."

Lucas didn't know what that meant but it didn't like the way it sounded like Dodge was telling a dirty joke.

"Hear that, kid? We have a friend we'd like you to meet," Big Billy said. "You'll like him. We have lots of fun and you don't have to go to school."

"I… I have to go home. My parents are looking for me."

Dog Collar leaned over the back of Lucas's seat. "We'll help you get home."

Lucas swallowed and started to slide toward the inner seat of his row. "That's okay… the next stop is mine."

When he moved to stand up in the aisle, the three big boys stood up too.

"Lucky day, that's our stop too. We'll walk with you," Dodge said, placing a hand on Lucas shoulder and leading him toward the middle of the train where the door was.

Lucas grabbed onto one of the metal poles and held on tight. He didn't want to go anywhere with these boys. Seeing his resistance, Dodge reached down to grab him around the waist. Panicked, Lucas kicked out and landed a blow squarely in the center of Dodge's chest.

Dodge flew back into a nearby aisle of seats and his two partners looked down at Lucas angrily. Big Billy grabbed Lucas's legs so he couldn't kick anymore and Dog Collar started working on loosening his fingers from around the pole. Lucas felt like he was being pulled in two as he struggled to keep both of his hands wrapped around the pole while Big Billy pulled on his legs.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dodge pull himself out of the seats and knew that he would be no match for the three boys put together. Still, he held onto that pole with everything he had and was surprised when Big Billy yelped and suddenly let go of his legs.

A small knife had become embedded in the toe of Big Billy's boot. On the far end of the train car, the man with the cowboy hat was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look the least threatened by the three thugs.

"Watch where you drop your stuff, old man," Dodge growled, leaving Lucas's hands alone while he turned to confront the older man.

"Old man," the man scoffed. "The boy doesn't appear to want to go you, fellas. I think you should leave him alone."

"Well, I think you should mind your own business," Dodge replied, sliding his jacket aside and reaching inside menacingly.

In the span of a blink, another small knife flew across the distance between the man in the cowboy hat and Dodge, and in the next instant, Dodge's arm was pinned against the wall of the car – held there by the knife point through his sleeve.

As the other two boys began to posture, the uninjured Big Billy having pulled the knife out of his boot, the man pulled open the two sides of his coat to show that the insides of was lined with more small knives. "We can do this dance all night if you want, but just so you know… those other two weren't misses. They were warnings."

The two boys looked over to Dodge, who was having a little trouble freeing himself from the deeply embedded knife, and he shook his head subtly. Big Billy moved over to help Dodge pull the knife from the wall and when they were done, the three boys stepped back from Lucas, all keeping their eyes on the man with the knives.

"Leave my tools, would you boys?"

Big Billy dropped both knives onto the ground and he and his friends left through the door and entered the next car.

The man walked past the pole Lucas was still holding onto and picked up his knives, all without saying anything to the young boy he had saved. After retrieving the knives from the floor and sliding them back into his coat, the man stepped past Lucas again, pausing only for a second when he noticed that the metal pole was slightly bowed out in the area Lucas was holding. The train slowed to a stop and when the doors opened, the man moved to exit.

"You're not riding the train anymore?" Lucas asked. Through the window over the rear door of the car, he could see the big boys watching him, seemingly waiting for their opportunity to get him alone.

"Nope," the man threw over his shoulder as he stepped out of the car. "I only ride until I find what I'm looking for."

With that cryptic answer he was gone and Lucas was left alone in the car. Right before the doors closed again, Lucas dashed out of the train and sighed in relief when the car pulled out with the big boys still on it.

* * *

The man in the hat walked to the door of an all-night diner and pulled it open. "Well, are you coming in?" he called out to the boy that had been trying to discreetly follow him since leaving the train station.

Lucas stepped from behind a parked car and looked up at him sheepishly.

"The name's Cowboy," the man said, pointing at the hat on his head. "Now come on in."

Following the directions on the sign, they seated themselves at an empty booth in an empty corner of the dining area. Lucas tried to look disinterested in the placemat menu that was on the table in front of him.

"You got a name, kid?"

Lucas looked across the table at Cowboy and swallowed. The man's face looked pleasant enough. His hair was hidden beneath the hat and he was clean shaven except for a brownish triangle of hair on his chin. Lucas glanced out of the window they were seated next to and then back to the man across the table. "It's Lucas, Sir," he finally said.

"Hmmm. Got a last name?" Cowboy asked.

Lucas thought about the way Mr. Tillman had responded to his answer to that question and just shrugged. As out of place as he felt in that moment, he wasn't sure he wanted to be sent back to the Harris House.

A waitress arrived at the table, chewing a wad of gum and brandishing a green order pad. "What can I get you gentlemen?"

"I'll just have a coffee," Cowboy answered, flashing the waitress a smile.

"Sure thing," she answered, scribbling on her pad. "What about you, Sweetie?"

Lucas pulled his eyes from the placemat and glanced at Cowboy. The man nodded and Lucas cleared his throat. "I'll… just have a coffee," he repeated awkwardly.

The waitress chuckled and put the hand that wasn't holding the green pad on her hip. "Your dad lets you drink coffee?" she asked in an amused tone before turning her gaze on Cowboy.

Seeing that Cowboy was laughing too and looking at him, Lucas slid down a little in his seat, embarrassed.

"Tell you what, Gracie," he said, reading the woman's name tag. "Make that one coffee, and bring Captain a BLT and a strawberry milkshake. We'll take two slices of Blueberry pie as well."

Grace made a few more scratches on the pad and then tapped it with her pencil. "You got it." She smiled at Lucas again. "Be right back."

She stepped over to the counter and returned with a glass of water for Lucas and a cup of coffee for Cowboy.

When she was gone, Lucas frowned at Cowboy. "Captain?"

"Captain Dick Sands." Cowboy said with a nod. "It comes from a Jules Verne story I read once. A young boy has to take control of his own destiny. Every time you start out on a new journey, you should get a new name. You don't look like a Dick though. We'll have to come up with something else."

"I'm not on a journey," Lucas corrected.

"No? Looks to me like you left some place and are on your way to the next. Am I right?"

Lucas thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Then you're on a journey," Cowboy surmised, reaching for the sugar container and adding some to his cup. "In my day, little boys ran away to join the circus."

"I've never been to a circus."

Cowboy chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Times have changed. People don't go to circuses anymore – they go to shows. That's what I told my dad when I left the family business."

"You were in a circus?" Lucas asked with wide interested eyes. "Is that where you learned to throw knives like that?"

"Throwing knives is just one of the things I do," Cowboy revealed with a mischievous smile. He reached over and unrolled the napkin-wrapped silverware setting that was in front of Lucas. He took out the spoon and wiggled it a little to make it look bendable. Then he brought his other hand to the bowl of the spoon and proceeded to bend it. After straightening it out, he handed it back to Lucas.

Cowboy chuckled at the child's wide-eyed wonder and watched as Lucas inspected the spoon. Then as expected, the boy tried to bend it himself. When he was unsuccessful, Cowboy expected him to put it down and ask for the secret behind the trick, but instead, the boy's face took on a determined expression. Then, to the older man's shock, the spoon bent.

Cowboy forced himself to blink and refocus, taking the spoon back from the boy. He then looked at the sawed off top of a spoon that had been hidden in the palm of his other hand.

"Captain," the man said, lowering the bent spoon into his lap. "You really are special, you know that?"

Lucas looked up at the man feeling greatly pleased but hesitant to show it. Perhaps this was the adult that was finally going to believe him.

The waitress returned with his sandwich and fries and milkshake.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"You are very welcome, young man. Ya'll enjoy, now. Holler if you need anything." After refilling Cowboy's cup, she turned and left.

Cowboy fiddled with the spoon under the table while thoughtfully watching the boy tear in to his food as if he hadn't eaten in a while. "Cap, remember how I was telling you that people don't go to circuses anymore?"

Lucas looked up from his plate and nodded.

"The magic has gone out of them. It's all about illusionists now. Doing little tricks to make people think they're seeing things. They call them illusions instead of magic because people have become so cynical that they can't accept that magic is real. That's what my journey is all about. I've been searching for a way to bring the magic back."

Lucas listened to the older man's speech without really understanding what he was getting at. Even though it didn't mean much to him, he guessed from his tone that it was personal. Feeling the need to repay the man for saving him on the train and now for feeding him, Lucas decided to offer something personal in return. "I'm looking for my parents," he said softly. "They kinda got lost."

Cowboy was quiet for a minute. "Of course they did," he said, "because if they knew how special you were, they wouldn't have let you out of their sight."

Lucas did let his happiness show that time. Sharing with Cowboy was such a welcome change from always having to hide back at the Harris House. "Yeah. When they see what I can do, they'll know it's me and we'll be back together again."

Cowboy smiled softly at the child's naïve logic. "October," he said after some thought.

Lucas frowned at him in confusion.

"Captain October Sands. October represents revolution, and that fits because your life is about to change."

"It is?"

"It most certainly is.," Cowboy answered sagely and stole a fry from Lucas's plate. "See, Cap, we're going to help each other find what we're looking for."

**Musical Interlude 2.3:**

**http: / www. / watch?vUZb1M2L71wA**

* * *

Lois stood a ways back from the green tent and wondered why it was always raining or snowing on the days that funerals were held. In her arms was the folded American flag that had been presented to her on behalf of her father's service to his country. Amazing that it hadn't been an enemy bullet that had finally stopped his career, but a silent assassin named cancer.

"Are you okay?"

Lois turned around at her uncle's voice and wondered how she was supposed to answer that. She was an orphan… but then, she had been living as one for ten years. "It's not fair," she said when her cousin stepped beside her and took her hand.

"I know," Gabriel sympathized, placing a hand on his niece's shoulder. "Cancer is…"

"No, not the cancer… Well, yes, the cancer, but… the whole thing. It's not fair that I can't be angry with him right now – right now when I should have every right to be."

Chloe glanced up at her father and squeezed her cousin's hand. "I don't think anyone would blame you for being angry right now. It's better than keeping it all in."

Lois looked into her cousin's worried eyes and knew what she meant. None of them wanted her to go back to the dark place in her mind like last time, but Lois didn't think she would ever go back there. She was stronger now, and she was better equipped. Plus… she simply couldn't afford to.

"How could he have done that to me? How could he have made a decision to give my baby away and then let me believe that he'd died?" The words came out evenly but the tears that she hadn't been able to loose all throughout the graveside service spilled freely.

The tears turned into sobs as her uncle gathered her against his chest. "Your father made some questionable choices, Lois, there's no argument about that, but he was human. Even I thought he was a bit strong armed with you after my sister died, but I never questioned how much he loved you – how much he wanted to protect you and keep from losing you the way he did your mother and sister. What he did to you… He never forgave himself. In the end, he lost you anyway."

He held her until her tears subsided knowing that the sting of the pain she was feeling would take much longer to heal – the wound she had worked so long to allow to scab over once again fresh.

Lois distractedly wiped at the tear tracks and took a deep breath. "I have to find him."

"Lois…" Gabriel started, but she shook her head and turned to Chloe.

"I have to find him," she repeated, pleading with her eyes for her cousin to understand what she was saying… and what she wasn't. "Will you help me?"

Chloe glanced up at her father's doubtful expression and then looked back to her cousin – her closest friend. "Of course, I will."

* * *

Clark wiped his hands on a dish towel and took a final assessing look around the kitchen. When he had gotten Lana's message about coming in town that evening, he had burst into action. She had been in Paris for the last year and a half and was now coming home. He wanted everything to be perfect – whatever perfect was when you were going to propose… or co-propose.

Lana Lang had lived next door to him as they'd grown up. They had dated briefly in college, but had been best friends both before and after that. One lazy summer day when they were about to part ways for college, they'd lain in the East field of his father's farm and promised that if neither of them had married anyone by the time they were 28, they'd marry each other.

Lana's 28th birthday was in two months, and the message she had left on the machine said that she was coming home… and they needed to talk.

Clark's immediate reaction had been to panic, but then as he'd thought about it, he'd accepted the idea. While he was setting up the kitchen, it had even occurred to him that it was really what he'd been counting on.

Hearing a car coming up the gravel drive, he dropped the towel on the kitchen counter and went out to wait on the porch.

"I could have come to the airport to get you," Clark said as they embraced.

"No need," she breathed, pulling his head down so she could place a kiss on his lips. "I wanted to have my wheels."

Clark sighed in relief, grateful that like always, time and distance didn't make them awkward around one another.

"What is that wonderful smell?" Lana asked, releasing him and going through the door to the house. Her face fell as she entered the kitchen and saw the roses and champagne he'd situated on the counter. In front of the vase was a small black jeweler's box.

Clark saw her expression and glanced around to see what was out of place.

"Oh, Clark, I should have been clearer on that message, but I didn't think you would…"  
Clark reached out and palmed the black box, hiding it in his realization that he'd somehow misjudged the situation. "When you said we needed to talk, I thought you meant our deal…"

"I did," she said, cutting him off. "But I didn't mean for you to…" She let out a laugh and shook her head. "I came to let you of the hook," she confessed.

He frowned. "Let me off the hook?"

Sighing, she raised her hand to show him the ring that graced her left ring finger. "I'm engaged. That's what I was coming to tell you."

Clark looked at the ring and nodded numbly. "Oh. Ok."

"You look like you should sit down," Lana said, taking his arm and leading him to the stool next to the kitchen island. "You want some water or something?"

"No. I'm fine… just surprised."

Lana leaned her elbows on the island's surface and smirked. "We really need to work on not waiting to talk to each other every six months."

Clark felt his brain kick start again and laughed at his own expense. "I probably should have waited to talk to you before jumping to conclusions."

Lana tilted her head to the side. "Well, in your defense, we did make that deal almost ten years ago… but in my defense, we made that deal almost ten years ago, Clark!" She swatted him on the shoulder. "Why are you waiting around for me?"

Clark reached for his shoulder in mocked pain. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." She interlaced her fingers together and rested her chin on the backs of her hands. "You remember the day we made that deal? You were getting ready to set off on your world tour and instead of excited, you were depressed and moody."

"I thought you said I was always depressed and moody," Clark teased back.

"Broody," Lana corrected, "and not always. There was one time when you positively glowed."

Clark looked away, trying to hide the flinch at the knowledge of the time she was referring to.

She saw it anyway. "Umm-hmm. Like I said, you know exactly what I mean." She sighed and pulled out one of the roses to smell. "What makes me sad, Clark, is that you stopped living. You never told me what happened, and I never pushed, but something changed you. And at first, it was for the good. I even thought that you going around the world would help… but you came back to do what? Be a farmer who writes travel articles on the side?"

"With mom practically running the Senate, someone had to take care of the farm…" he responded weakly.

"Martha Kent has been flawlessly handling the senate seat since she took it over for your father. While you were gone, she flawlessly handled both that and the management of the farm. You didn't have to come back to do that."

"My father would have preferred me take care of his land over some strangers," Clark argued.

Lana placed a hand over his. "With what you are capable of, your father would have preferred you to make a difference in the world. And when I sat that, I'm not talking about your abilities."

She squeezed his hand to make him look at her. "What are you doing here, Clark? What were you thinking you were going to do tonight? Wait for me to bail you out?"

"Lana, that's not…"

She shook her head. "Yes it is… or, yes it would have been," she inserted. "You've got to stop hiding from your life, Clark. The one is out there for you somewhere, but she's not going to magically appear on your doorstep."

Clark looked into her eyes, knowing that even though he had never told her about what had happened to him all those years ago, she had somehow guessed. Shaking his head at her omniscience, he smiled. "Speaking of the one, who is this guy I'm going to have beat up?"

* * *

Harold Tillman was having a bad day.

He loved his job, but it was days like this that made all the good days pale in comparison. One of the group homes he worked with had reported a runaway, and what made it worse was the fact that they had waited three days before even calling the county office to report it. Which then meant that even though he was supposedly the assigned overseer for that particular house, the news didn't reach him until 5 days later… counting the two weekend days that no one saw fit to work on.

So, yeah. He was having a bad day - and on top of that, some woman was creating a raging ruckus out in the reception area. He hadn't seen her, but he could sure hear her... and just when he thought his day was finally coming to a close.

Sighing, he rose from his desk and went to help Belinda out of this mess. When he walked into the outer office he saw a dark-haired woman sitting on the reception's couch silently crying while a petite blonde was going to task with Belinda. Harold sucked in a deep breath and prepared to intervene with a calm demeanor. One of the first things they taught you in this position was that you remove heat from fire with ice.

"Belinda, is everything okay?"

Belinda turned to face Harold with an expression that told him that her reservoir of ice had melted. "I've tried to explain to these women that we are closed, but they are insisting on speaking to my supervisor." The receptionist's eyes widened as she said the last part, indicating that she had gone through all of the trouble to abide by his wishes.

Harold turned to address the blonde woman. "I'm sorry, but the offices are closed for the day."

"They can't be closed if we're in here," the woman countered. "We're in here, and you're in here, so you're not closed. All we're asking is that you help us locate a child."

Harold caught the pointed look Belinda gave him out of the corner of his eye. "As I'm sure Belinda informed you, that type of request is a, not allowed, and b, in the rare cases that it is, could take months or years to process."

"We don't have that long."

Harold looked over at the woman on the couch who had spoken up. Her voice was soft but strong… determined, yet pained, as if she had come through something horrific and made it to the other side.

Harold blinked, unable to break the pull the woman's eyes had on him for a moment, but then finally looking back at the blonde. "I'm sorry if we seem a little calloused to your situation, but it is our jobs to protect children, and the way we do that is through the rules and regulations we have in place."

"I don't give a damn about your rules and regulations," the blonde returned. "Your rules and regulations didn't work the first time around."

Harold stiffened. "Now listen Ms…"

"Sullivan," the blonde supplied perkily, not at all intimidated by his displeasure.

"Ms. Sullivan, I don't know your situation, but if you would come back in the morning…"

"No. We're here now."

With her stubborn protest, Harold's day finally caught up to him and all of his attempts at remaining calm dissipated. "What's so important about now?" he demanded hotly. "Why now? Why couldn't you have decided that you wanted the child before you gave it up? Why should we want to help you now?"

The blonde took in his outburst without flinching but turned to gage the other woman's reaction before responding. "Because she waited ten years to just now learn that her son is alive."

"Ten years, three months, and 14 days," the brunette's soft voice inserted. Her quiet strength was even more apparent now that she was standing. She apparently noticed the way her statement made Harold pause, so she added, "I've been counting."

* * *

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

PT. 3

* * *

Lois looked at the first page in the folder her cousin handed her and snapped it shut. "No, absolutely not. I'm not doing it."

Chloe perched on the edge of her desk, reached over and opened the folder again. "Lois, wait. Let's talk about this."

Lois shook her head. "What is there to talk about? There's no story here. No one is interested in reading about this guy."

"If that were true, Perry wouldn't have assigned it to you," Chloe returned with a shrug.

"I don't have time for this."

Chloe tilted her head sympathetically. "Time, Lois? You haven't written anything substantial in months. For most people that's a guaranteed pink slip. Perry's been in your corner through all of this, but I think that on this occasion, you're going to have to make the time."

"Chloe…"

"I know, honey, I know. I will support you if you want to look forever, you know that, but you can't hide from your life in the process. There's only so many times you can go back to the Harris House; only so many times you can canvass the streets of Metropolis at night… he's not there, and if he is, we're not going about searching for him in the right way."

Lois ran a hand through her hair. "Is there a right way?" she asked, a hint of hysterics on the edge of her tone. It still troubled her greatly that the Boy's Home had managed to misplace a boy with a broken leg. "He's just a little boy and he's out there alone."

Chloe nodded in agreement, but didn't respond to her cousin's comment. She didn't want to bring up the concerns about a little boy out in the streets who might not be alone after all this time. Those thoughts were darker… She didn't have to report the real news to know the statistics regarding what happened to endangered runaways.

She carefully thought about what she was going to say next. "Lois… I really think you should take the assignment. You could use the break… and I'll still be here."

Lois looked at her with wide eyes. The underlying message was not lost on her cousin.

"You can leave, Lo. You can keep living. It's just one story. It keeps you in the game and takes the pressure off of Perry to keep you employed." It was only slightly a guilt trip. "The trip would be good for you – refresh your mind."

Lois's expression was doubtful.

"Do you trust me?" the blonde asked.

There was no hesitation in the response. "Of course I do."

"Then let me take over the search for a few days while you go get this story. I wouldn't let you down."

"I know you wouldn't, Chloe," Lois replied. She lifted a hand to massage the back of her neck and glanced down at the folder again. Sighing, she relented a little. "I honestly don't think there's a story here to get. This guy is an illusionist…"

"Magician," Chloe inserted.

Lois frowned and glanced up at her. "What's the difference?"

The younger woman shrugged. "I don't know, but he's really adamant about it."

Lois shook her head dismissively and returned to her previous thought. "People don't care about magicians once they're off the stage. The truth is that they just aren't interesting without the half-naked assistants, the cheesy dance moves, or the smoke, mirrors, and lighting tricks. When the audience steps outside the theatre, they remember that it's not real."

"Well that's the thing," Chloe began, reaching out and flipping a page in the folder, "he claims that it is real, and no one can seem to figure out how he does it."

"So Perry wants me to go to the other side of the country to out a magician?" the brunette asked incredulously. It might not have been much considering the venue she worked in, but Lois's reputation was built upon the fact that she only penned true hard-hitting stories. It was one of the reasons Scoop had become such a hit. With her around, they always got it right.

"No," Chloe assured, "that just explains why he's such a hit. He doesn't use the obnoxious music and lights and still his shows sell out every night. This guy's big – that's a given – but what Perry wants you to investigate are the reports that the Fed's have taken interest."

Lois frowned in confusion. "The government is looking into a Vegas magician? For what? Tax evasion?"

Chloe shook her head and shrugged. "I have no idea – but that's what Perry wants you to sniff out."

"Magicians and conspiracy theories," Lois muttered, sliding the plane ticket out from under the papers in the file. "What am I getting myself into?"

* * *

_"So you understand that it's the same type of deal, right? We cover lodging, food, and basic expenses while you're there, but you have to cover transportation. I'm really sorry about the short notice, but our regular guy canceled at the last minute…"_

"I understand," Clark answered, jotting down notes on the small notepad he kept near the phone. "It's not a problem."

_"Great to hear that – if you could go ahead and make your arrangements, that would be best. I have you scheduled to attend a few different stage events as well as to dine at a few restaurants. Right now, we just want you to write-up the major stuff. The place is just too big and has too many coinciding engagements for you to get everything in. That said, if you find that this is an assignment you enjoy, we can talk about extending it later." _

Clark made a few more notes. "Thank you. I appreciate the work."

After getting more details of the assignment, Clark hung up the phone and sighed, feeling torn. Part of him really was happy about the work – any freelance writer would be – but another part of him felt guilty about accepting it.

It had been seven months since he'd had his conversation with Lana about not hiding away from life, and still he hadn't made use of her advice. He was still working the farm while doing side work for travel publications. It was relatively easy work – the transportation issue was often a deal-breaker for most writers but it was something he had no problem covering.

He massaged his creative and logistic skills a bit in writing his stories up, but for the most part the work was mindless. It was just an excuse really – an excuse to hold on to the faintest remnants of the woman he'd loved so long ago and for so long since.

He was traveling around the world – just like she'd said he would... but he wasn't making a difference.

Dropping his chin, he reached up and massaged the back of his neck dejectedly while thinking over the words Lana had said to him. He realized that if her were going to move on… he first needed to let go.

Sadly, he decided that this would be his last story for the travel industry. He'd go to Vegas, complete the assignment, and then start a new life.

Eleven and a half years was a long time to hold onto a ghost… And a ghost was what she was. She'd never attended Metropolis University – he'd checked. She'd never become a reporter for the Daily Planet – he'd checked that too.

_Lois. _

He didn't even have a last name. All he had to prove the veracity of that night… was his heart.

And it was time to let that go.

* * *

Lucas looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and wondered if the eyes looking back at him were more like hers or more like his… if his nose was more like hers; if his chin was more like his. It was a familiar game – guessing how his combination of looks split into two people he could only imagine – but it was a game he played less and less.

Life outside in the real world had begun to take its effect on him, and he had begun to lose some of that bright-eyed faith he'd been able to build while living in a world centered around children. Out in the world, he'd learned that monsters were real and that fairy godmothers were not.

Things over the last seven months hadn't quite gone like the fairy tale his imagination had created. Lucas hadn't found his huge stage where he could stand in front of a crowd and have his parents magically step out from the shadows. Instead, Cowboy was the one on the stage, the one in the center of all the lights… and that actually was a relief to the young boy.

Cowboy had taught him about the people out there who wouldn't understand the things he could do. He'd showed him the stories about the way people with different abilities had been treated throughout history. Some were burned, some were stoned, some were drowned, and others were nailed onto trees. Lucas had come to realize that only people who did 'tricks' were accepted. The public didn't mind being tricked as long as they knew it was a trick. For them, believing that someone really had powers was threatening.

That was why Cowboy was taking them through this process – he was slowly blurring the lines between trickery, illusion, magic, and reality. He'd told Lucas that he was taking the stage so that when it was time for Lucas to debut, they would be ready to accept him.

It was a relief to Lucas that Cowboy was the one in the lights because he wasn't so sure he wanted to be there anymore – but he was afraid to admit that to Cowboy. He didn't want to seem ungrateful.

Cowboy was the one that had helped him learn to control the unsettling feelings and the abilities that the feelings led into. He now knew how to turn his ear and eye powers on whenever he wanted to. And then there were nights when Cowboy would drive him out to the desert so he could practice his running unseen. This was the most liberated the young boy had ever been in his life. An adult was taking care of him, he was safe, his strangeness wasn't held against him, and – other than Cowboy not willing for him to be seen in public – he was free to do as he pleased.

Then why did he feel as if his world was ending?

As he became more and more aware of the ugly truths behind the magic mirrors, Lucas was starting to realize that he really was alone.

There was a knock on the bathroom door right before it opened. "You ready kid? It's show time," Cowboy announced, walking into the room decked out in his stage costume – still the familiar hat, but everything else adorned with rhinestones and tassels.

Lucas looked at his reflection and hurriedly wiped his face with a wash cloth. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Cowboy frowned. "Captain, you have to stop doing this to yourself," he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I told you. You don't have to worry about them. I'm with you, Lucas. I always will be."

Lucas nodded into the towel, still not showing his face. He hated the small scary feeling in his stomach that was starting to come up every time Cowboy hinted about his parents. He was already having his own doubts; he didn't need Cowboy's added on top.

"You want to leave me, Cap?"

Lucas looked up at the hard edge that was suddenly evident in Cowboy's voice and noticed the same edge in his expression. "N..no… I… was just thinking about the show."

Cowboy's eyes narrowed slightly as he bent to be at Lucas's eye-level. "I'm the only one who can do right by you. You know that, right?"

Lucas couldn't help but shift his eyes away from the intensity of Cowboy's stare. He swallowed and nodded. "I know," he replied softly.

"Let's go, kid. The curtain calls."

**Musical Interlude 3.4:  
www. youtube com / watch? vFrrSAN-UFrk**

* * *

Clark realized that he was leaning forward in his seat and glanced around – everyone else was doing the same. He looked back toward the stage and narrowed his eyes. There was something different about this show… sure the man who called himself 'Cowboy' was a unique character, but there was something else… something more than just the man's charisma.

Unlike other illusionist shows he'd attended, Clark found the stage design of Cowboy's show to be deceptively simple. Other shows wanted your eyes to be drawn to other things; flashing lights, smoke bombs, loud noises – all integrated to make your mind forget to focus on the fact that magic was supposedly going on.

No, this show was different. The Cowboy didn't have dancers and clowns running through his act. Sure, there were a few of the regular stand-bys in the illusion industry – the chopped up assistants, the disappearing and reappearing through trap doors, the ever growing handkerchiefs, the card tricks – all well done and skillful, but the real draw of the show were the interspersed acts that engaged the audience. The way they were mixed in with the other tricks made them that more engaging. The expected mixed with the unexpected; the known with the unknown.

The Cowboy knew – down to the tiniest details – what people had in their pockets and what they whispered into their neighbor's ears. He floated items over the audience's heads using his breath, and to end the show, he made it snow… inside.

Clark didn't normally get this drawn into illusionist performances – having learned the reveals behind most tricks long ago – but something about the feats of this magician gave him a strange feeling of deja-vu. It wasn't until the house lights came up that he realized what it was.

Clark could do all of those things too.

With wide eyes, Clark pushed through the exiting crowd in an attempt to reach the stage. His mind was brimming with questions – Who was this man really? Was he like him? Did he know more about where he came from?

While it struck Clark as pretty ridiculous to think of using his abilities as a magic act, he didn't think that his freelance travel writing gig was all that more elegant. Regardless of what he did with the powers, Clark needed to talk about them with Cowboy.

His frustration grew when his press pass wouldn't allow him access to the backstage area. Clark left the building and snuck around to the rear where he knew the limos were supposed to wait in order to transport the performers to their next locations. Remaining in the shadows, he watched as the Cowboy exited the theater and stopped short. Two rather imposing looking men in black suits were waiting for the magician at the open door of the limo.

Frowning at the reaction, Clark narrowed his eyes and focused in on the scene.

One of the men in black flashed a badge. "We'd appreciate a moment of your time."

Clark knew that the Cowboy comprehended the man's request the same way Clark did – it wasn't an option. Holding up a finger, Cowboy turned his head to the side in Clark's direction and coughed into his fist. Then he nodded and slid into the waiting limo.

Clark's eyes widened in shock. During what had appeared to be a cough, the Cowboy had actually delivered a message. _ "Don't let them see you. Meet me later." _

Clark had picked up on the words only because of his special hearing… even the agents standing right next to him wouldn't have heard it, and he knew that Cowboy didn't have any listening devices or transmitters on him because he'd checked. That meant that Cowboy had been talking to him.

Clark heard something behind him and turned just in time to see a boy disappear into the night. Clark blinked as he tried to process the thought… the boy had disappeared.

A second later, Clark followed.

When he stopped, the boy crashed into his chest. Clark wrapped his arms around the boy and held him still. "It was you," he said, realization dawning on him. "Not the magician… wasn't it?"

The boy was trembling and looking up at him with wide eyes. "Are you going to take to the bad people now?"

"The bad people?" Clark asked, looking down at the boy.

The boy swallowed. "The ones who will cut me up," he explained.

"Cut you u…" Clark halted, straightening and looking around at the bustling Las Vegas Strip around them. He pulled the boy into the hotel they were outside of and led him to the elevator bay. Children were not normally allowed in casinos, but this hotel had an amusement park on the roof. No one would think it strange to see him there.

He felt guilty as he held tighter to the terrified boy's hand when he tried to pull away. He was essentially kidnapping him, but there was something not right about the situation and he felt the need to get to the bottom of it. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently, trying to assuage the child's fears.

It didn't work.

By the time they made it to the amusement park level, the boy was in tears and people were beginning to take notice. Clark picked the child up, not wanting to drag him, and carried him over to the far side of the roof's observatory – away from the crowds and rides.

Clark set him down on his feet next to the ledge. "Is the Cowboy your father?" he asked.

The boy didn't respond but Clark could tell by the look in the boy's eye and by the pace of his heartbeat what the answer was.

"Are you in trouble? How did you get involved with him? Where are your parents?"

The boy's trembling only increased.

"Look, I just want to help you."

The boy backed away from him, inching toward the ledge. "You can't," he whispered, and within the blink of an eye, he was on the other side of the railing, standing on the narrow ridge that lined the roof.

Clark raised both of his hands placatingly. "Hey… hold on. You shouldn't be over there."

The boy shook his head and tears began to stream again. "I don't want to be cut up."

"No one is going to cut you up," Clark soothed, silently cursing when the child jerked back at his small step forward. "Let me help you."

The boy looked at him warily for a moment, and then moved another inch away. Unfortunately, it was an inch further than the ledge extended. Clark's swiping reach missed when the child's hands flew over his head in lost balance as he fell.

In the next instant, both Clark and the boy were back on the right side of the ledge, solidly on the ground. Clark set him down and stepped back, eyeing him carefully. If the boy had been scared of him before, he was petrified now.

Clark watched as both the boy's eyes and mouth widened in delayed panic. "Don't scream," he cautioned.

The knife in his heart turned as he noticed the darkening stain appear on the inside of the boy's pant legs. He hadn't meant to scare him; he had just wanted to help him. Whatever the relationship was between the boy and the magician, it wasn't a good environment for a child with special abilities. Clark had a pretty good idea that the boy wasn't in school like a child of his age should be.

The man was using the boy to further his career. Yes, the tricks that Clark had seen during the show were all things that he could do, but the use of the powers wasn't nearly as advanced as they could be. At first he'd thought that it was because the magician hadn't wanted to show all of what he could do… but now it made sense that the tricks were the extent of the young boy's skill.

Clark hadn't had that much control of his abilities at that age – in fact, he hadn't even started realizing that he had them until later. He had learned that the powers usually appeared during a stressful or physical change in his life. His parents had sheltered him… he sadly wondered what the small child could have gone through to hasten his development.

Clark lifted a hand, but the boy stepped back.

"Listen, I just…" Clark started, but before he could get any other words out, the boy turned and ran away from him. Sighing, he completed his sentence to the boy's retreating figure, "…wanted to know your name."

The rescue had happened too high in the sky for people on the street-level to have seen it, but it had just so happened that the amusement park's rollercoaster had rounded the building just at the point when he'd caught the child and flown him back to the roof. The people from the rollercoaster were just getting off of the ride and he could see them rushing to disembark while fiddling with camera phones. He couldn't chase after the boy without drawing more unwanted attention.

Hoping to leave the camera wielding spectators with empty frames, he launched into the sky as fast as he could safely manage.

* * *

For the second night in a row, Lois followed the man to the alcove hideaway behind the Venetian Hotel. It amazed her that there was a place this close to the Strip that was completely devoid of people. To some extent, she supposed she should have been worried.

"Looking for some action?" she asked, alerting the man to her presence.

He turned around; dropping the cigarette he had been smoking and stepped on it. "Excuse me?"

Lois stepped out of the shadows and further into the light cascading down from the area's lone streetlamp. "I figured that a guy like you out here all alone night after night was looking for something."

The man gave her a slow interested smile before shaking his head. "Sorry. Not looking for company tonight."

"You sure about that?" she asked, crossing her arms against her chest. "Or is it that I'm just not your type? You like little boys, right?"

The man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Who the hell are you?"

"Lois Lane, investigative reporter," she answered with an arched brow. "Care to give a statement?"

"A reporter?" he asked in confusion. "All of my statements are given through the show's PR handlers."

"Ah. Well, I'm guessing that the reason you're out here tonight is because your PR handlers don't set up your dates."

The man sniffed. "I don't know what you're talking about… What paper are you from?"

Lois hesitated, preparing for the standard reaction. "Scoop."

The man laughed sharply. "A tabloid?" Then he laughed again. "Suddenly the creative theories make sense."

Lois set her jaw. "Yours is a common misconception about my magazine, but we only print the truth – as unbelievable as that truth may seem. When we write, people take notice."

The man turned to walk away. "I think we're done here."

"That's funny because I was just getting started, Mr. Thorul." She smiled when the man stopped walking. "Or can I call you Alonius? Better yet, let's just cut through all of the fake name changes and use the one that you were given at birth: Alexei Luthor, of the famous Scandinavian performing group."

The newly revealed Luthor's eyes narrowed. "What is it that you want?"

"Want? I want to put you down. People like you who prey on children make me sick."

Luthor shook his head. "You've got it all wrong."

Lois was unfazed. "Is that the line you gave to the federal agents that you were with last night?"

"If you know about the Feds then you know that they had let me go. They didn't have a leg to stand on."

"Just because the Feds weren't able to find something that sticks doesn't mean the proof's not out there. I asked around. There are some hotel personnel that say you've been seen with a child on occasion – yet you have none of your own."

Luthor chuckled. "I don't owe you anything, but I'm going to throw you a bone. Children love magicians, and I love children. Unlike adults, they haven't yet learned to disbelieve in magic. They come to me for autographs and magical coins pulled from their ears. That doesn't make me a pedophile - just as making up facts to support a false claim doesn't make you an investigative reporter."

Lois narrowed her own eyes, matching his stare. "There's a secret here, Al, and I'm going to find it."

Luthor lifted his cowboy hat from his head in mock salute. "You're chasing ghosts, Mrs. Lane. Good luck with that." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and began walking away. "Don't follow me again."

Lois watched as he disappeared into the night, leaving only the sound of his carefree whistling to mark his departure. This 'Cowboy,' as he called himself now, was hiding something. Taken together with the lack of FBI conviction, his easy denial of her claims left her beginning to doubt that pedophilia was in fact his crime… but there was something.

She heard a rustling behind her and turned around abruptly, searching the trees that bordered the alcove. The sounds stopped immediately. "Is someone there?" she called out.

Having followed Luthor to the site two nights in a row, Lois had been convinced that he had been waiting for someone to join him. Now she was sure of it – her presence had interrupted a meeting.

She moved closer to the place she had heard the movement. "Hello?"

When she arrived at the trees, something jumped into the path. When she realized that the 'something' was in fact a person – a small person – her heart stopped and she froze in paralyzed shock.

She knew that face. She looked at a picture of it every night before going to sleep.

The boy met her stare briefly before turning to run away.

Finally she found her voice. "Lucas?" she croaked, but he was too far away to hear her.

She forced her legs to move and stumbled to a nearby park bench, falling onto it heavily and unable to stop the tears that began pouring from her eyes. Suddenly she was unsure of what she'd seen. Maybe it was the stress of the entire ordeal that was causing her to project her lost child's face on that of other children she came across.

The more she thought about it, the less that face looked like the one in the picture – granted the photo Harold Tillman had given her from the Boy's Home's files hadn't been a particularity recent one - but how would he be here? She was on the other side of the country… it didn't make sense.

Lois dropped her face into her hands. She didn't want to convince herself anymore. She didn't want to write this story anymore. She didn't want any of it anymore.

A hand on her shoulder caused her breath to hitch.

"Why are you crying?" a small voice asked.

Lois wiped at her eyes in an attempt to see clearly but the tears kept coming. She reached out and framed the boy's face with her hands. "I thought I had lost you."

The boy glanced toward the direction he had run in before. "I don't understand."

Lois sniffed, wanting to regain her composure and not frighten the child into running away again. "What is your name?" she asked; her voice quiet under the weight of emotion.

He glanced away again. "…Captain."

Lois frowned. With him standing this close… with her touching him… she knew the resemblance was pure.

"No its not," she countered, shaking her head and sliding her hands down to his shoulders. It was as much to keep him there as it was to remind herself that he was real. "My father named you."

She almost cracked at the revelation. When she had first learned the boy's name she had once again been torn between love and hate for the man who'd raised her. He had named the child and then sent him away.

"He named you after my sister, Lucy," she continued. "I'm so sorry I couldn't find you for so long."

She felt him begin to tremble under her hands and he hesitantly lifted a hand to her face, his eyes widening as his fingers crept closer to her skin. "I dreamed about you," he whispered.

Lois felt as if her heart was straining to break free of her chest. "Me too."

* * *

Lucas had never felt so happy in his life. Just when he'd been ready to give up on the possibility of ever finding his parents, his mother showed up. His mother! She wasn't really like what he had imagined… She was better – She was real. He didn't know how he knew she was telling the truth… he just did.

"Captain!"

The boy flinched at the sound of the voice. He had almost forgotten why he had been waiting in the trees in the first place. Cowboy had always told him that if they ever had an emergency separation, they would meet at the alcove. Cowboy hadn't been alone the night before, so he'd stayed hidden and returned the next night.

"Step away from her, Boy!"

His mom rose to her feet at the sound of the voice, holding tightly on to Lucas's hand. Cowboy was standing 20 feet away from them, looking really angry.

"Captain. Now."

His mom shook her head slowly, and he could tell that she was getting angry too. "You stay away from us," she warned in a low tone.

Lucas looked between the two adults with wide scared eyes and swallowed. He had never seen Cowboy look so mean – not even that first day they had met on the train. "It's okay, Cowboy," he offered tentatively. "I found her. She's my mo…"

"She's not your family, Cap," Cowboy interrupted. "I am." He took a step forward.

"I said stay back," his mother shouted. "You're done corrupting him."

Cowboy looked at her fiercely. "I found him first," he said. "He's mine now and I won't let you take him away."

Lucas felt his mother's grip tighten on his hand as she started to move him behind her. "He's not yours," she argued. "You can't use him to replace the family you ran away from."

Lucas didn't understand what the words meant, but he knew that he didn't like the strange tension that was in the air. He peeked out from behind his mother and gasped. Cowboy was sliding a hand inside his coat – a move that Lucas knew as a precursor to a knife throw.

"Noooo!" he screamed, and suddenly he felt the strange sensations start to build inside him for the first time in a long time.

* * *

Clark had spent the 24 hours since he'd gotten separated from the child searching the Las Vegas Strip for him. It was a harder task than he would have liked, but he was willing to be tireless about it. It had worried him that the Cowboy had cancelled his show that night, and he hoped that the boy hadn't run back to the man with news of their encounter. If he had, it was possible that the man and the boy had left town.

With renewed intent, Clark began scanning the crowds of people walking up and down the street around him. Where would a child be in all of this?

The sound of panicked screams picked up by his special hearing made his entire psyche come to attention. Glancing around, he darted into a dark alleyway and moments later landed in the midst of a horrific scene. The child he was searching for was standing with his eyes tightly closed about ten feet away from a man who was engulfed in flames.

Clark quickly blew cooling breath on the man to douse the fire and realized who he was looking at… although now sans hair. The magician was still alive though unconscious. Clark knew he needed to get him to a hospital right away, but hearing the child's continued screams made him aware that he needed to attend to the child first. Cowboy would remain stable for the few minutes it took to calm him down.

Clark quickly moved to the child's side and put his hands on his shoulders. "Hey... hey, listen to me."

The boy stopped screaming hysterically at the sound of his voice but continued to keep his eyes closed. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it! I didn't know!" he babbled in a stream of frantic words. "I didn't mean to hurt him, I just wanted him to stop and then it happened…"

"What's your name?" Clark asked gently, trying to soothe the boy's panic.

"Lu…Lucas," the child sobbed.

"Lucas," Clark repeated, "I need you to open your eyes for me."

"I can't! I can't do it!" Even though his eyes were closed, fat tears escaped the lids and rolled freely down his cheeks.

"Yes you can. Now try it for me."

"I can't! I'll hurt you! I don't want to hurt anybody!"

Clark felt bad for the confusion the boy was experiencing. "Hey, do you recognize my voice?"

Lucas shook his head wildly.

"We met last night, remember. I caught you when you fell."

Lucas swallowed and sniffed, trying to calm himself enough to speak. "Th… the flying man?"

Clark let out a small relieved breath that was half chuckle. "Yes. Remember?"

Lucas nodded, his chest still hitching from sobs. "Y..yes."

"The things that make it so I can fly, make it so I can't be hurt like other people. You won't hurt me, Lucas… I need you to open your eyes for me though."

Lucas sniffed a few more times before lifting to grab hold of Clark's sleeves for support. He slowly pried his eyes open and fearfully met Clark's gaze. Clark couldn't help but think that they were beautiful eyes… and somehow familiar. "See. I told you that you wouldn't hurt me."

The boy kept looking at him and clutching onto his arms tightly. "I didn't mean to hurt him."

"I know, Lucas. I know you didn't."

"Is he dead?"

Clark shook his head. "No. That's why I wanted you to open your eyes." He shifted slightly so his body was no longer blocking the child's vision of the man lying on the ground. Lucas still hadn't taken his eyes from his though.

"Look," Clark urged gently.

Lucas blinked and slowly disengaged his locked stare from Clark's eyes, as if afraid something else would spontaneously combust if he looked away. "He looks dead," the boy said softly.

"He's not dead," Clark assured. "He just needs to go to a hospital." He ran a hand over the boy's hair. "It was just an accident. He'll be okay, and so will you. You want to tell me what happened?"

Lucas looked at him again, the hysterical tears starting anew. "He killed my mom."

Clark's brow furrowed at the words. "Wh… he what?"

The boy's sobs started interlacing with hiccups. Unable to speak, the child turned and pointed to the trees behind where Clark had found him. Clark took a closer look and for the first time he noticed that someone was lying among the roots and high grass.

In the span of a blink he had moved both he and the child to the woman's side. She was lying on her side facing away from the path and there was a considerable amount of blood seeping into the ground underneath her.

"What happened?" he asked, reaching out to carefully roll her onto her back.

"H…he threw a knife," the boy managed, crying even more.

As the woman's face was revealed, Clark felt his entire chest cave in. "This is your mom?" he asked, looking at the boy with renewed wonder.

Lucas nodded and Clark fought off his own batch of tears. On the ground in front of him was Lois – which meant that standing before him was Lois's son… And the powers only left one other explanation… he was his son. Clark's brain wanted him to freeze and take a moment to synthesize everything, but there was no time for sentiment right now.

He released a short breath and turned back to Lois. Just as Lucas had insinuated, a knife was lodged deep in her gut. "She's not dead, Lucas."

The boy grabbed onto the back of Clark's shirt as he ventured a glance. "Are you sure?"

Clark nodded. "Yes, but she's lost a lot of blood and the wound is still bleeding." He looked at the child and figured that he didn't need to inform him what that would mean if it wasn't attended to soon. "I need to stop the bleeding, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

Lucas met his eyes with such a look of trust that Clark found himself swallowing to remove the lump from his throat. "I need you to watch what I do closely, okay?"

He didn't want to traumatize the young boy any more than he'd already been that night, but Clark needed him to see that the fire that came from their eyes could do more than hurt people… it could also help them. After getting a confirmation nod from Lucas, Clark x-rayed Lois's wound and carefully withdrew the small knife from her gut. The retraction released a whole new gush of blood, and Clark pressed his hand firmly over the area, feeling Lucas's grip tighten on his shirt.

"It's okay, keep watching," he soothed, narrowing his eyes to engage his vision in a little advanced laser surgery. When he finished, the wound was no longer bleeding and her pulse was less erratic.

"She's better now?"

"Yes, but there's still more we need to do," he told the boy. "I need you to stay with her while I take Cowboy to the hospital."

"You're leaving?" The wide-eyed panic was back.

"Only for a few seconds." With Cowboy being unconscious, he wouldn't have to be nearly as careful and slow as he would if he were trying to avoid causing pain. Even though ever fiber in his being wanted to bring the man pain for the damage the man had done – he wouldn't.

Once everyone was safe, though, he'd make sure the man went to jail.

Lucas kneeled on the ground next to Lois. "Why isn't she talking?" he asked worriedly, reaching out to touch her face.

Clark gazed down at the two of them sadly. "Sometimes when the body has a shock like that, it can't take the pain all at once, so the brain tells the body to go to sleep," he explained.

"So, she's going to wake up?"

Clark nodded confidently for the boy's sake, but in truth all he could do was hope.

When he returned from dropping the magician off at the nearest hospital, he found Lucas still next to his mother, except now lying on the ground beside her. Clark picked up on the last few words the boy was whispering softly to her. "I really, really want you to wake up. It took so long to find you."

Clark frowned, wondering what it all meant. "Lucas, it's time to go." He reached out and helped the boy get up. "We're going to all go together, but for me to carry your mom the way I need to, you're going to have to ride on my back, okay?"

Lucas bravely nodded and stepped back to give Clark room to maneuver.

Clark gathered Lois into his arms, careful to not jostle her too much and then moved over to the bench that the boy had gone to stand on. Lucas wrapped his arms around Clark's neck and held on tight.

"Here we go," Clark said, beginning to lift from the ground. As they were about mid-ascent, he felt Lois stir, her pulse finally having stabilized. She gasped and moaned, turning her head as if reliving the attack.

"Shhh," he soothed, aware that Lucas's hold had tightened upon her movement.

Lois's expression smoothed and her eyes slowly cracked open. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes as he saw the recognition set in, and he grimaced with her as the sob she released incurred obvious pain. Still, she smiled at the boy whose chin was hanging over his shoulder.

"Lucas... Clark?" she asked, in a strained voice, turning her focus back to him. Her glazed eyes gave the impression that she probably thought she was dreaming. She frowned at what little she could ascertain of their surroundings. "Are we… flying?"

He nodded curtly. "It's okay," he answered. "I've got you."

She blinked lazily and tried to focus her dilated pupils on his face. "Yeah, but who's got you?"

"I think we've all got each other now," Lucas answered timidly, and Clark smiled, happily realizing that the boy had put the puzzle together.

Clark met Lois's gaze as her eyes cleared and they shared a look that crossed years, past hurts, and unspoken words.

Then she looked up at Lucas, her eyes brimming with love and discovery. "You know, sweetie, I think you're right."

* * *

And so they lived…

... Happily Ever After.

* * *

THE END


End file.
